


Harke, my Love

by JʼLi (kibigo)



Series: Harke/the Huntress [1]
Category: Metroid Series, Super Smash Brothers, The Legend of Zelda & Related Fandoms
Genre: Cyberpunk AU, F/F, First Date, Girls With Girls, Kissing, Modern Setting, On the Run, Smut, Something With Something, Sonnet, Videogames, art porn, be gay do crimes, cybre, making love to the English language, outlawed homosexuality
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-21
Updated: 2019-01-21
Packaged: 2019-10-13 15:29:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 6,469
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17490542
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kibigo/pseuds/J%CA%BCLi
Summary: The Princess of H⸺ can do pretty much whatever she wants, with no consequence whatsoëver. But there is one exception: Sheʼs not allowed to fuck women.Problem:She really wants to fuck women.An extremely!AU cybrepunk Zelmus oneshot‐in‐seven‐parts. Plotting for the sake of pornography. Or is it the other way around?





	1. unPrincexx

**Author's Note:**

> **me:** _playing Super Smash Brothers: Ultimate, All‐Star mode, as Zelda_  
>  **Super Smash Brothers: Ultimate , All‐Star mode:** _spawns Samus_  
>  **me:** _walks slowly off the edge of the map to my doom_
> 
> There isnʼt enough cybre Samus, there isnʼt enough punk Zelda, and there _definitely_ isn’t enough of the two of them fucking each other wild. So I uh, put forth my contribution to the cause.
> 
> It should be obvious, but these are _not_ the same Samus and Zelda as in [my other fic](https://archiveofourown.org/series/1017876), so if youʼre coming here from there, be prepared for something a little different. Well— …Quite a bit different, actually. Youʼll see.
> 
> * * *
> 
> **Compatibility notice:** (I canʼt believe I have to write this.) If youʼre noticing a missing glyph in this fic, itʼs likely [U+2E3A ⸺ TWO-EM DASH](https://r12a.github.io/uniview/?codepoints=2E3A&char=2E3A), the character [recommended by the Chicago Manual of Style](http://unicode.org/L2/L2010/10037r-longdashes.pdf) for indicating omissions, but unfortunately not supported by any of the fonts which come pre‐installed on Apple devices. So, if youʼre reading this, and you notice question‐mark‐boxes or other Unicode tofu, just assume that a long dash was supposed to appear in its place.   
>  Some fonts which support this character are as follows: [the SIL fonts](https://software.sil.org/lcgfonts/), [Noto](https://www.google.com/get/noto/), [Source Serif](https://github.com/adobe-fonts/source-serif-pro/releases/tag/2.010R-ro/1.010R-it) and [Sans](https://github.com/adobe-fonts/source-sans-pro/releases/tag/2.045R-ro/1.095R-it), [EB Garamond 12](http://www.georgduffner.at/ebgaramond/).
> 
> * * *
> 
> Yes, of fucking course there is a playlist: <https://8tracks.com/kibigo/harke-my-love>

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A life of freedom, lacking but one thing,  
> Now thrown away, in manner most obscene;

**The stories** tell of princesses, locked away in their towers, locked up in tradition, limited in their powers, limited by their responsibilities throughout the day. It was a nice charade.

In truth, Z⸺ H⸺ had never suffered any difficulty getting what she wanted. Going where she wanted. Doing what she wanted; _not_ doing that which she wantednʼt. It had been a simple matter procuring articles of plebeïan street fashion from her servants: She simply let it drop that she was interested in cosplay. It hadnʼt been difficult at all scoping out locations—eyes peeled for cameras, overpasses, guard routes—she just announced that she was going on a stroll through town. And securing significant enough quantities of paper cash to ensure her daily comfort in the time to come? Please.

No, there was nothing a princess could not do, she thought to herself, humorously, chopping away at her hair. Her resulting cut was amateur, asymmetrical, bizzare—this by design. The artificial intelligences, after all, were only trained on women with professional haircuts and proper makeüp. She applied a blocky teardrop of black facepaint under her exposed left eye. They didnʼt know how to handle the bizarre.

Appraising her appearance in the mirror, the princess gave a slight smile. She looked like a fucking punk. That was the point, after all—of punk fashion, not her æsthetic choices. To provide a place for people to hide.

There were no consequences to this, she told herself, in an attempt to quell her beating heart. Were she to be caught—the worst any would face were some negative headlines in the loids. Perhaps a small dip in tourism dollars. There existed no consequences for princesses.

Well. She applied her lipstick. At the very least, there would be no consequences to her _failure_. Her success was a different matter entirely.

She was camped out in a bathroom on the ground floor, one with a window she could climb out without anyone noticing. Not that they wouldnʼt have footage—truly, she could see the tabloid covers now—but it would buy her some time. She zipped up her bright yellow raincoat, tugging the hood up over her head, wrapping a scarf around her face, press‐pass hanging prominently down her front. It would keep people from examining her too closely. Nobody _willingly_ spoke to press.

She recalled Sh⸺, the young, platinum‐blonde journalist who had recently taken to covering royal affairs. _Hers_ was a face the princess would certainly miss seeing around. She hopped up on the windowsill, the memory spurring her into motion, worn sneakers against brickwork.

As it happened, there wasnʼt quite _nothing_ one couldnʼt do as a princess.

But she wasnʼt about to let that stop her any longer.


	2. Out in the City

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Through crowd and subterfuge, a vanishing  
> Into a store of chance, where plans are keen.

**Sheʼd chosen** the day well: Rain was falling in sheets, and the sea of umbrellas was sure to confound any overhead drone. Princess‐no‐more paused in a shadowed corner under an overpass to peel off her scarf and coat—both left in a rubbish bin, buried. She went into a small clothing store, leaving with a jean jacket, keeping the usual chill at bay, and a few days’ clothes. And she was again on her way.

Three tunnels, seven turns later and she found herself at a game store. A completely nondescript building—it was niche enough not to have to worry about appearances: white walls, a plain sign by the door. _Depths of M⸺_ , it read. Whatever that was supposed to mean.

Exactly the balance of discoverability and obscurity she was looking for, ʼtwas. Noöne cared about shops such as this, so long as they payed the bills. She shook off her umbrella and stepped inside.

―Oi, hey, welcome. The voice came, echoïng slightly against the linoleüm, from the front counter. The woman standing there was tall, dressed in typical storeclerk attire, slacks with a polo, blonde hair descending in a long ponytail. She had an athletic build—clearly, she worked out—but her disposition seemed soft, tempering it. Hesitating only a moment, the newcomer approached her, shivering slightly from the cold.

She took note of the clerkʼs nametag: _Aran_.

―Hi. A hint of a thrill ran through her chest, mingling there with a touch of fear. Obviously, she hadnʼt been recognized—even as the clerk looked her up and down, shocked, perhaps, by her queer attire. Or was she admiring? _That_ was an empowering thought.

But the woman had never asked for information from a storeclerk before—not like this, as a commoner—and it made her anxious that she would somehow trip up and reveal her background. These thoughts she pushed aside. The clerkʼs job was still to serve.

―Iʼm… new in town, the woman said. Her voice came out thinner than she had expected; she sounded intimidated, almost afraid. She blinked. Focus on the goal. ―I was wondering: Might you have pointers for, perhaps, meeting a group of people, finding something to play?

This was step one, she had read. Make connections. Get onesself inside a community.

From there, itʼd be possible to discover all manner of people and places that those like her were never _supposed_ to find.

Aran replied lightly. ―Sure, she said. ―We have public game nights every Thursday. Although—I suppose it depends on what kinds of games you like to play?

Thursday. ―I— The woman faltered at this. She hadnʼt had the opportunity to actually _try_ any of the games she had researched—not that it would have been un _becoming_ of a princess, to take passing fancy in such _common_ tripe—but because that interest would have left a trail to follow, to where she was now.

―To be honest, she said. ―I have read some rulebooks, but Iʼve never actually—

―Itʼs okay, itʼs okay, the storeclerk said with a smile, and all the woman could think about was how _soft_ those lips looked. ―You neednʼt worry. People of all skill levels are welcome. But—maybe thereʼs something I can get for you while youʼre here…?

The woman looked around. Filling the walls and floor were rulebooks, dice, figurines, rack upon rack of comic books. Nothing on the shelves particularly caught her eye. And: she still needed to find a place to stay—and dinner. There was no sense in creating a delay. ―No, I—

But her eye _was_ caught, and on the woman servicing her. She was standing there so casually, leaning lightly forward into the counterspace. Her nails were pink, which seemed an oddly feminine touch, and her eyes were blue, and kind, and there was something small, unstated in her smile.

She didnʼt want to wait until Thursday. The woman had known this would be a long process, expected it—but setting foot on the street, maybe for the first time with not a soul aware of _who_ or _where_ she was, had brought with it the intense realization that it would also be a lonely one. She would attend the game night, and then what? Perhaps meet some strangers? Perhaps make friends? Perhaps, through them, gain connections? Make her way to the cityʼs underground? Perhaps, meeting someone she took a liking to, find love?

Perhaps, perhaps.

Well, if she was goïng to entrust her happiness to a _perhaps_ , the woman decided, she might as well do with one providing more immediate results. She steeled her resolve. No consequences. There were always other game stores.

―You could… give me your number, she stated, plainly.

Aran laughed, and the woman felt her face growing red. ―You know, the clerk said. ―Itʼs a _faux pas_ to ask someone out while theyʼre working.

And the woman found herself wishing she hadnʼt thrown away her scarf, wanting nothing more than to be hiding her face in it now. ―Iʼm sorry, she stammered. ―I didnʼt mean any offense, I just—

―Itʼs alright, itʼs fine. The clerk laughed, waving her hand in an attempt to calm her down. ―Just making sure youʼre _aware what youʼre doing_ , here.

―…Yes. The woman took a deep breath, trying to calm herself. ―I… realize that it is unconventional—I mean, I just walked off the street and— She looked into the clerkʼs eyes. Yes, the spark was definitely there. Gods. ―…Iʼll just leave. But, I would like a firm answer before I go.

Aran pondered, one excruciating moment. ―Do you have a name? she asked. ―Miss…

―H‐Harkinian. The woman had prepared this identity beforehand, but it still gave her a strange devilish thrill speaking it out loud. ―Z⸺ Harkinian.

―Aran, S⸺. And she received a thoughtful look. ―You donʼt mind if I shorten that, do you? Harkinian is… quite the mouthful to be saying all the time. What about… Harke?

 _Saying all the time._ Harkinianʼs heart lept in her throat. ―H‐Harke is fine, she managed.

―Well then, Harke. How about… a date? Aran looked her up and down, one more time. ―And then _weʼll see_ about that number. Iʼm off at six oʼclock?

An actual date. With another woman. Harke had been free of the Palace for all of thirty minutes, and already it seemed she had walked into another world.

―Iʼll… see you at six. And she left before she could make a fool of herself any more.


	3. Public Date

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The steps of feet bring forth a pairing to  
> A date divine, a possibility

**It was seven past** when Harke reäppeared in front of the game store, cursing the rushhour foottraffic for the delay. Aran was there waiting, leaning coolly against the door, the storefront dark, locked up for the night.

―Aye, _there_ you are, Aran said, with a smile. ―I was almost worried youʼd stood me up.

―Oh, no, not at all, thereʼs just… so many _people_ …

―Yeah, thatʼs the city, Aran laughed. ―You said you were new, right? I have a place in mind—this way. And she set off.

―Yes, thatʼs right, Harkinian responded, jogging to catch up, but feeling a step behind. Not just because of the taller womanʼs stride.

―Well, whereʼre you from? The pair skirted a large puddle: The rain had mostly let up, but the roadways remained drenched as they crossed.

It was a question she should have anticipated, but hadnʼt. ―Uh, Harke responded. ―Sorry, I know this might be a little weird, but… can we not discuss that just yet?

―Oh, Aran said, sounding a little surprised, but not alarmed. ―Yeah, of course. Sorry for bringing it up, if itʼs a sensitive topic.

She led them both to a small, but surprisingly not busy, Italian bistro, and they placed their orders quickly and without fuss. ―Actually, Aran said, as they took their seats. ―Look—you donʼt have to answer this. But you seem a little… scattered. Is everything okay? The concern on her face was genuïne.

―I… donʼt know. The news was playing on one of the bistroʼs tellys; it would be days before her vanishment was declassified, but it still made her anxious. ―I… The whole situation seemed slightly out‐of‐synch, slightly unreal. Five hours ago she was still within the Palace walls. ―Is this actually happening? Weʼre actually… yʼknow…?

―On a date? Aran laughed. ―Naja, Iʼm not _that_ intimidating, am I?

―…I think Iʼm in shock, Harke admitted, staring out the window blankly. A waiter arrived with breadsticks, and she took one without thinking. ―Iʼve never been able to do this before. With a woman, I mean. I mean—this _is_ romantic, right? This is a romantic date?

Aran was giggling, covering her mouth to keep from spewing crumbs across the table. ― _Yes_ , she said. ―For the last time, this is an actual, real, romantic date.

―But… Harkinian dropped her voice low, looking around as if for eavesdroppers. Of course, nobody was paying the pair of them any mind. ―Isnʼt this, yʼknow. _Against the law_?

―Oh, so _thatʼs_ whatʼs got you spooked, is it? Aran had ordered some kind of… fizzy, light soda, and she sipped it gently. ―Look, love, I donʼt know where you came here from, but youʼre in the _city_ now. Thereʼs 8 million people outside that doorstep. Nobody is going to look twice at two women getting dinner together, okay? They save that energy for, yʼknow, _other_ things.

―What _sorts_ of other things? Harke asked.

―Letʼs see how the date goes first, before we get to _that_ , Aran said, with an insinuating wink. And Harkinian buried her face behind her napkin, blushing hard. But also, _very_ curious to know.

And so date went. Went exceptionally well, actually, by Harkinianʼs measure, and she could feel herself falling hard. Falling in a way sheʼd never had the space or ability to even consider before. For want of a conversation topic, she had asked about Aranʼs own experiënce with the tabletop genre, rewarded with regaling tales of combat and adventure in the science‐fiction landscape of Hunters: Prime. ―So Iʼm dating a bounty hunter? she teased, spinning fettuccine around her fork. ―Iʼd better watch out, or she might hand me over.

―I would _never_ , Aran said, crossing her heart. And, that came with some reässurement.

―So why did you, if itʼs okay for me to ask? Say yes to me? The question had been burning at her for some time, growing, rather, as Harke found herself becoming more and more thankful that Aran had.

―To this date? Harke nodded. Aran put her finger to her chin, pondering. ―I mean, technically _I_ was the one to ask _you_ out, so…

Harke gave her a glare. ―Oh, you know what I mean.

―Mm. Well, this is probably obvious, but, youʼre really hot.

Harkinian waited for the rest of it. When nothing more came, she found herself bursting out in laughter. ―Thatʼs it? she asked. ―Thatʼs so _crude_.

―Right, but is it though? I mean, tell me, if some absolutely stunning woman—

Harke nodded enthusiastically. ―Letʼs just say, ‘you’.

―You flatter me, Aran said, laughing and taking a bite of raviolli. ―But okay, letʼs say _I_ just walked up to you, straight off the street, a particularly boring day at work, and asked you for _your_ number. Would _you_ say no?

Harke slowly swirled her straw through her water, pretending to ponder. She didnʼt need to: Of course she wouldnʼt. Sheʼd been missing this her entire _life_. But: ―…Maybe, she said.

―Plus, I mean, thereʼs, yʼknow, thereʼs something about you. Aran patted her mouth with her napkin, taking a drink. ―You looked like you could _use_ a nice night. And I was all, well hey, Iʼm not working tomorrow…

―Is this to say you have more planned? The night had already far exceeded Harkeʼs hopes, which had been basically nonexistent; she would have been more than content to just call it a night.

―Oh, not in particular, Aran replied. ―But, you know, thereʼs always the couch and videogames, if youʼre up for it.

―Oh… Harke hesitated. Slowly, it sank in that she was beïng invited over. _Oh._ ―Not that Iʼm opposed, but… Would it surprise you if I mentioned that Iʼve… never played a videogame?

―Iʼd be happy to show you the ropes, Aran grinned. ―And thereʼs always the crate of old DVDs, if it turns out to not be your thing.

―I think Iʼd rather watch you than a movie, Harkinian said, laughing. Then, realizing the words she had just spoken: ―…Playing a game, I mean!


	4. Smashed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For evʼning pleasure, and a loving true,  
> From competition, through camʼraderie.

**―…So, uh,** hereʼs a controller, Aran said, passing Harkinian the device. Her apartment was small— _cozy_ was a better word, Harke thought; nothing like the Palace, but then, nothing at the Palace was built for two. Technically, she supposed _this_ apartment was built for just _one_ —but she decided that couples were sort of a single unit, anyway. She took the controller in her hands, turning it over and analysing it carefully.

―…These… are a lot of buttons…, she said.

―Yeah, well, donʼt worry too much about it, Aran said, plopping down on the couch with her own. She seemed completely unconcerned by the amateur abilities of her partner, and Harke tried to let that fact give her confidence. ―See this joystick here? Thatʼs move. This button does your normal attack, and this one is special. Thatʼs… basically all you need to know.

―Iʼm going to be attacking you? Harke asked. She wasnʼt sold on the genre Aran had selected; she didnʼt want to _attack_ her partner, she… Well, frankly, she wanted to snog her.

―Nah, love, weʼre going to be attacking _together_. Teammates. The game loaded; Aran navigated the screens. A grid appeared, faces of every variety, not all human. ―Okay, so this is the ‘character selection’ screen, so youʼre gonna have to pick who you want to be.

―Um. Harkinian looked at her. ―Who should I be.

Aran gave her a once‐over, and Harke felt herself blushing lightly under the scrutiny. ―…What? she said.

―You seem pretty spunky, so…

―Spunky?? And Harke laughed. ―Whatever gave you that idea.

Aran dodged the question.

―Okay, see where my cursor is, here? Iʼd go for that one. The figure indicated was mysterious, concealed from head to toe in form‐fitting clothes, almost ninjaësque in its design. Harke giggled. It might have passed for her escape getup had it put on a yellow jumper. Unnerving red eyes stared out at her.

―…Is this a boy, or a girl? Harke asked, placing her token. It was impossible to tell from the picture, and all things considered, she thought sheʼd rather beat up enemies as a woman.

―Yeah, probably, Aran said, placing her own.

And so the game was on.

―I!! have no idea!! what Iʼm doing!! Harke was pressing buttons at random, her character responding by shooting needles in arbitrary directions and leaping across the stage.

―Yeah! Just like that! Youʼre a natural, Aran said, sincere, but surely full of it. Although Harke had to admit, as she watched the figure dashing across the screen, that they _did_ look incredibly cool.

If only she knew how to make them actually _do_ any of the things she wanted them to do.

―Iʼm pretty sure youʼre the only one of us who is actually accomplishing anything, Harke said, jumping in entirely the wrong direction and falling to her doom.

―Maybe, Aran said, taking a quick moment to glance away from the screen at her. ―But hey, maybe I _like_ accomplishing things for you.

And _that_ was a distraction. Harke forgot what she was doing, instead staring pointedly at her gaming partner. ―That, she said.

―Harke, youʼre not paying attention to the game⁓

―That, Harke continued. ―Is maybe the most sappy, _bullshit_ thing I have ever heard.

―Oh, you canʼt handle the sap? Aran asked. She was dancing circles around Harke onscreen, playfully protecting the idling character from the onslaught of foes.

―Oh, I can _handle_ the sap, Harke responded. She finally tore her eyes away, and back to the game. ―…It just makes me want to snog you.

―See? This is what I meant when I said ‘spunky’, Aran said, tossing a foe out‐of‐bounds. And thus the round was over.

It was another four rounds before Harke got her first KO, and she celebrated the moment by nearly tossing her controller across the room and self‐destructing onscreen. Although the pair had started the night with respectable space between them on the couch, by the seventh they were hip‐to‐hip, lightly shoving and jostling as they fought each match. By the tenth Harke had determined that she had just about had enough of this idle play. ―Aran, she said, as the victory screen appeared once more on the display. ―Watching you valliantly defend me has been a delight, but I think Iʼve had enough of mashing buttons for one day.

―Alright, Aran said, setting her controller aside and turning to look at her face. It was the first time they had looked into each otherʼs eyes from such a short distance, and it was breathtaking. ―Was there something else you wanted to do instead?

Harke rolled her eyes dramatically. ―Love, she said, leaning in closely, until their noses were just millimetres apart. ―Do you really need me to repeat it? Iʼve _only_ been telling you all night _long_.

And Aran leaned in, too, and their lips met, and Harke felt her whole body set alight, adrenaline from the match still coursing through her veins. ―Damn, she whispered, after their mouths had broken. ―That was _some_ kiss.

And she climbed into Aranʼs lap, returning the gesture, with all her passion and love and more than a little carnal desire besides.


	5. Couched

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A cinematic moment, moving close,  
> ʼTil softness, tenderness come gilt with heat;

**In the end,** they did wind up bringing out an old DVD.

ʼTwas an action movie, the sort that on first blush appeared full of twists and suspense and intrigue, but which really had no plot whatsoëver past chase scenes and punctuated intense whispering. ―Shh, plot is happening, one of the pair would whisper, upon hearing the tempo of the soundtrack slow. And then, ten minutes later, the pace would pick back up, and they would be snogging once again.

It was quite possibly the most entertaining cinematic feature Harkinian had ever experienced, for reasons that had little to do with what was happening onscreen.

Inevitably, the end credits rolled. ―Ah, Harke said, her face nestled against her partnerʼs neck. ―The bad folks, it seems, have met their defeat.

―Mmm, Aran replied. They had given up all pretenses of propriëty at this point; she was lying on her back with Harke nestled snugly on top of her, wrapped up in a warm tangle of comfort and love. Those were good words, Harke thought. _Comfort_ ; _love_. Perhaps _tangle_ as well. She had never known before quite what they meant; she wasnʼt entirely sure she understood now. But if ever there was such a thing, she knew that this feeling was one of home.

―Are you planning on having me spend the night? Harke asked. The time was, by now, quite late. ―Or should I be getting ready to go?

―I donʼt want you to go, Aran replied. She was running her fingers through Harkeʼs hair; the feeling was bliss. Harke snuggled her partner close.

―You really _are_ beautiful, you know, Aran whispered, unprompted.

Harke blushed. She was really blushing quite a lot today. She tried to push the comment away. ―Good genes, I guess, she replied. Unspoken: Royal bloodline, and all.

―Eh, Aran said, kissing the top of her head. ―I think youʼd probably look beautiful even if you _didnʼt_ have your jeans.

―You _little_ — Harkinian gave a pretend scoff at the impropriety—but then giggled at the pun, sliding gently up her partnerʼs body, letting her lips brush her ear. ―Youʼre welcome to find out⁓ she whispered playfully.

Hands obliged, tracing lightly down her back, around her waist, against her abs. Lightly tugging at the button on her pants. Up, around, under the denim, over her ass. And then down, sliding the material down her legs, and Harke maneuvered her body to kick them fully off.

Aran traced lightly up the back of her thighs. ―Yep, she said. ―Still gorgeous. Harke kissed her, hard, and she felt those hands slide up her body, under her blouse, against the bare skin of her back.

Oh, how she wanted to be exposed right now.

―Maybe youʼre just more of a shirt sort of gal, she said. ―Iʼm sure itʼs my impeccable taste in blouses that is clouding your vision. Youʼd… better remove that too, just to be sure, yeah? She nibbled lightly at Aranʼs jaw, her head only lifting to allow the garment past.

―Iʼm fairly certain this is only making you more stunning, not less, Aran replied, chuckling lightly. ―Not that Iʼm complaining, by any stretch.

And Harke was there, lying on top of a beautiful woman, in nothing more than her bra and panties, and it felt like only the most natural thing in the world.

―Aran, Harke said, in a half‐assed attempt at sounding sultry.

―Harke, Aran replied, not even bothering.

―…I think I want to have sex.

―You _think_? Aran said, smiling, running her fingertips lightly up Harkeʼs back, down her front. Lightly, she held her by her hips. ―Feels like the sort of thing you should _know_ , yeah?

―Oh, hush, Harke replied. ―You know Iʼve never done this before.

―Mmm.

―Would you… want to?

―Yes. Aran looked her in the eyes, smiling, winking slightly. ―If you ever make up your mind.

And with that, Harkeʼs mind was made. Aran was tracing idly along her waistline, just casually, not even in a sexy way—except that Harke knew that she wanted it to be. ―These are nice, Aran said.

―Oh my gods are you seriously admiring the _brand_ of my panties right now would you just _fucking_ —

And Harke took her own hands and pulled them down.

― _Please_ , she said. ―Touch me.

Aran gently traced her fingers along Harkeʼs hips, down, around her thighs—but pointedly dodging the one place Harke wanted them most. ―Aran, she whispered. ―Pleas—

—But her plea was cut short as Aran lightly pressed her fingers there, between her folds, against her clit, and Harke couldʼve sworn she saw stars. ―Oh‐hhh, she moaned, in the most pleasured, delightful way.

She sat up. Aran sat up with her. ―Yes, Harke said, with finality. ―I most definitely _do_ want to have sex with you.

―Okay, love, Aran said, kissing her sweetly. ―…Maybe not on the couch? Perhaps, I donʼt know… in a bed?

―Omigosh, do you have one?! Harke said, in mock surprise. ―I demand to see it this instant!

And Aran got up from the couch, lifted her very‐nearly‐nude companion, and carried her to the back room, where the most wonderful bed lay.


	6. To Bed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Such motions force a great veracious dose,  
> For love cannot be made within deceit.

**Aran removed her polo** and her slacks, getting herself cozy under the sheets. Harkinian sat on the edge of the bed. They were really doing this: The situation sunk in. ―Hey, Aran? she asked, her chest anxious. She wasnʼt quite naked yet, even as she undid her bra.

―Mhmm? Aran said, lazily curled.

―Thereʼs… something I think you should know, before we go any further. Harke slipped off her final garment, looking at her partner. She got a warm smile in return, which made things easier, if only marginally. ―Can I trust you?

It was a silly question, one she wouldnʼt ask if she didnʼt already, but Aran nevertheless played it plain. ―Of course, she said.

―Right, well… Harke took a deep breath. There were no consequences for princesses; that she told herself. But—well. Here, in this room? She wasnʼt exactly a princess anymore. ―I wasnʼt entirely honest with you earlier, when I gave you my name, she said. ―It isnʼt Harkinian. Itʼs H⸺. Iʼm actually… Iʼm the Princess.

Aran looked at her—disbelieving at first, but, to her credit, without laughing out or doïng anything to make the situätion uncomfortable. And, on her second take, recognition struck her. She leaned forward, pulling Harkeʼs bangs out of her face, looking at her closely. Harke could feel her cheeks growing red.

Aran leaned in, and kissed her, softly. ―You look much cuter, now that you have short hair, she said.

And Harke laughed, shaking her head, letting her bangs fall back down, her only shield. ―Iʼm… sorry for not telling you before, I just—

―You donʼt have to apologize for that! Aran said, emphatically, waving away her words. ― _Nᴀ⸺_ , Iʼm not gonna hold it against you for not wanting to announce to a literal stanger that youʼre the princess of fucking H⸺. I just, she laughed. ― _Damn._

―I hope this doesnʼt change anything between us…

―Oh, I mean, it changes fucking everything, right? Aran said. ―But, hey, come here. Change isnʼt always bad, okay? She opened the covers to Harke. ―Come on, she said. ―Snuggles.

Harke obliged, finding herself wrapped in Aranʼs embrace. Sheʼd been slowly growing chilled, sitting there nude—she hadnʼt realized until she felt the warm body wrapping around her and the soft comforter tucking her in. The feeling of her partnerʼs flesh—it was like heaven. ― _Gods_ , she said.

Aran giggled, and nuzzled her hair. ―See? she said. ― _This_ hasnʼt gotten any less pleasurable.

And despite her anxiëty, Harke thought that maybe she saw now what her partner meant. It _was_ different, now that she wasnʼt hiding who she was, anymore. But it definitely wasnʼt worse. She felt Aranʼs hands lightly tracing her abdomen. _Definitely_ not.

―I… suppose you probably have questions, huh? Harkinian asked.

―Oh, yeah, about a billion, Aran said, laughing. ―Um, can I still call you Harke?

―Yes, please, Harke said, rolling onto her back, turning her head, lightly kissing her. ―Please do.

―Are… you going back?

Harke looked deeply into her eyes. She had considered it, once, getting out, having her youthful experiënces as a free woman, returning then to the crown and the throne. But there, in that moment, she knew that her place was right here, and her heart would never be content if she settled for anything less. ―Not if I can help it, she said.

―So youʼre, like… hella on the run, then, yeah?

―…Yeah.

Aran was tracing along her collarbone now, and Harke closed her eyes and let herself just focus on the feeling.

―Is that scary?

Harke pondered. ―I… It wasnʼt before I met you. But… She opened her eyes. ―Now I have something to lose, you know?

Aran nuzzled her jawbone gently.

―Do you still…? Harke asked. ―Iʼm sorry, she laughed. ―Iʼve killed the mood, havenʼt I?

―Mm, I wouldnʼt say that, Aran said, hand tracing gently down her side. Harke realized how passive she was being, just laying there beside her partner—but at the same time, it felt so good, she couldnʼt bring herself to move. ―Put it on hold, maybe, Aran continued.

―You still… want me? Harke asked, and Aran laughed.

―Love, Aran whispered. ―Having a princess in your bed is a lot of things, but unsexy is _not_ one of them.

Harke smiled. She could feel small pieces of her confidence returning; she knew Aran was to credit for that, and she was thankful. ―Iʼd tell you to relish the opportunity, she said. ―But I feel like thatʼd just be setting myself up for catastrophic failure at doïng you a good job.

―Mmm, Aran said. ―Then Iʼll save you the effort, and tell you I am. Her fingers had reached Harkeʼs pubic hair, and were tracing lightly amongst her curls. ―What say you we save the difficult questions for the morning, and just try to enjoy ourselves tonight?

―Yes, please, Harke said, and finally she willed herself into motion, clambering onto her partner, straddling her body, kissing her deeply, and gasping and moaning as Aranʼs fingers slipped down between her folds and softly, gently, across her clit.


	7. Come Home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The huntress, princess, two as one as mates,  
> Do realize that which Matters beyond States.

**―Just take them off,** would you? Aran rolled her eyes, Harke kissing and nuzzling down around the perimiter of her bra. If she had known her underwear was going to cause her _this_ much trouble, she would have removed it _before_ climbing into bed.

Harke gently tugged at one of the cups, exposing Aranʼs flesh. ―Aw, love, now whereʼs the fun in that? she said, and she softly took up her partnerʼs nipple in her mouth, gently sucking.

―Ah… fuck… Aran gasped, her fingers trailing down Harkeʼs spine. Harkeʼs doubts had turned out to be entirely unfounded—she was an expert at turning Aran on.

―But, I suppose, if you insist… And Harke reached around behind her partner and undid the clasp, releasing the garment, flinging it to the side, snuggling down against Aranʼs bare chest. The feeling was one of pure sensation. Aran let her hands rest on her partnerʼs butt, their legs hopelessly entangled, their hearts hopelessly in love.

Harkeʼs hands had come to the last garment separating the two, Aranʼs panties—thoroughly damp, by now, by fault of both parties. ―We could probably stand to lose that, too, Harke said, nibbling her partnerʼs neck.

―Mmm. And Aran unwrapped her legs, and it was on the floor, and she reached out, eager to resume their embrace. But Harke wasnʼt willing to return to her previous position just yet. She knelt there, between Aranʼs legs, looking down at her.

―…What? Aran asked.

―Nothing, I just… Youʼre very attractive, Harke said, smiling. Her face was flushed, but considering their current occupation, that was hardly a matter of surprise.

―Oh, _now_ you tell me, Aran said, rolling her eyes.

―Iʼm _fairly certain_ , Harke said, tracing lightly along her partnerʼs thighs. ―That I have mentioned this before, actually. Then she cocked her head to the side, and gave Aran a playful smile. ―Mind if I go for a closer look?

Aran feigned an exasperated sigh. ―Okay, she said, ―but I hope you realize, itʼs getting cold up here.

And Harkeʼs head was between her legs, and, well, she couldnʼt exactly complain about that.

―Cold, huh? She traced her fingers lightly up Aranʼs labia, admiring them gently, then pressing her digits softly to either side of her clit. ―I hate the cold. Sounds dreadful.

―Mm, Aran said. And then Harke bent down and kissed the sensitive nib, eliciting a small gasp from her partner. ―One… gets used to it after a while, I suppose.

A tongue flicked against her, lightly, and then again, and again, in an easy rhythm, and Aran felt the breath leaving her lungs in a low moan. Harke sucked long, and gently, and then broke.

―You know, Harke said, before kissing her partner, there, again. Aranʼs fingers had found themselves in her hair. She lightly nuzzled her partnerʼs crotch. ―I wasnʼt sure how much I would enjoy this, in theory. But I find I _quite_ like it in practice.

―Yeah? Aran laughed. Harke had taken to lightly encircling the entrance to her vagina with her digits, and she was having minor difficulties following the vein of the conversation.

―Mm _hmm_ , Harke said. And she finally slid up her partnerʼs body, receiving her embrace, letting their hips meet, sucking softly on her neck. ―Sorry for leaving you in the cold, she teased.

―How is it, Aran asked. ―That I can be at once burning with desire, and at the same time perfectly content?

―Because you know, Harke said, rising up into a crouch, staring into her partnerʼs eyes. She had Aranʼs legs pinned wide, her hands tracing down her chest, her abdomen, around her thighs. ―You _will_ be satisfied before the night is out. And Harke let herself fall forward into a kiss, mouth open and probing, as she traced her partnerʼs folds inticingly.

Aran felt her back arching, a moan escaping her as Harke curled her middle finger inside of her. Her other hand had slid up, now ministring her nipple; her teeth were at her collarbone, lightly, just enough to be felt.

The pleasure welled up inside her, and the stimulation was just enough to get her to take charge. She pulled Harkeʼs hand away, and flipped her onto her back, snogging her hard. ―Iʼm not the only one, she said breathlessly, kissing her way down Harkeʼs front. ―Actually, I think youʼve been on _top_ for altogether too long.

―Oh? Harke said—and then Aranʼs mouth found her crotch, and her fingers inside. ―Ohhh…

―Mhmm, Aran hummed, her mouth far too busy for actual words. It was Harkeʼs turn to have her legs splayed, her back arched, her moans echoïng into the night.

―Aran, Iʼm—m _mm_ , Harke said, as Aran let her thumb take the place of her lips, flicking gently across her nib as she kissed her way up her stomach.

―Mmm? Aran traced a small circle around Harkeʼs nipple with her tongue.

―I… thought I was about to come, but I think it might be a little while yet, Harke giggled, alternating between tracing Aranʼs shoulderblades and digging her nails into them as the waves of pleasure hit. ―This is— _ah_ , really nice?

Her hips were rocking with her partnerʼs motions, her eyes closed, and Harke found her spirit torn between the pressure mounting inside of her and the part of her body that just wanted to keep going on like this an eternity more. Sheʼd touched herself, before, of course, but it had been nothing like this. She hadnʼt known fingers could feel so good.

Aran slid up her body more, angling herself slightly to one side, ensuring her hand continued to have easy access, and frankly just snuggled there. ―Iʼm glad, she said.

Harke smiled at her. Her voice switched to a playful, authoritative sort of tone. ―My darling Aran, she said. ―Youʼre a very good fucke— _Oh!_

And her voice broke, and her head rolled back, and her hips started rocking all the more. ―Oh, _donʼt_ — she gasped. ―Donʼt stop. _Fuck_ —

Aran didnʼt stop—she slowed. Three fingers inside her partner and one on her clit, she cut her pace by half, before slowly bringing it up, matching her partnerʼs thrusts as their urgency crescendoed. Harkeʼs breathing was ragged, her motions beyond her control, her fingers digging into the matress and her hips pressing against her partnerʼs hand.

Her everything came apart at the seams, and Harkinian came, hard, by the motions of her love.

― _Gods_ , Harke gasped, after it was all over. Somehow, Aran was now lying on her back, and she was curled around her side, tracing her chest lightly up and down. ―So… thatʼs an orgasm, huh?

Aran chucked, and Harke giggled, and soon they were both laughing with each other. ―Fuck, Harkinian said, finding it hard to stop, taking deep breaths, trying to control her breathing. She felt _good_. She felt _really good_. ―This is _not_ going to be the last time we do this, okay?

―I certainly hope not, Aran said. And Harkeʼs was back down between her legs, ready to finish what she had started.

―No distracting me, this time, Harke giggled, tracing slow circles around Aranʼs clit with the pad of her middle finger. She kissed lightly along her partnerʼs hipbone. ―Iʼm quite satisfied, for the moment.

―R‐roger, Aran gasped, herself anything but satisfied. Harke was taking advantage of the fact, playing slowly, teasingly, with gentle flicks and ample tracing along her body.

―Gods, Harke.

Harke was back in her crouching position, sucking lightly on one of Aranʼs nipples, slowly tracing her finger along her entrance with no hint of a rush. ―Yes, dear? she asked.

Aranʼs hands gently found the top of Harkeʼs head, pressing lightly in the direction of her crotch. ―Would you just _eat me out_ already, love?

Harkinian smiled. She let her fingers curl inside. She let her tongue navigate her partnerʼs folds. She let her lips caress her clit, and as she brought her partner to orgasm, she knew that, regardless of _what_ consequences this night might bring: She had never regretted a decision less in her life.

**Author's Note:**

> This is just a short thing that I wrote for fun one night (okay, like, three nights) because i’m a massive queer nerd. Most of my time is taken up writing my [other gay fanfic](https://archiveofourown.org/series/1017876), so don’t except to see more of these two except perhaps a little thing here and there on occasion.
> 
> Let me know what you thought!! I absolutely loved writing this one, so.


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